


White Teeth Teens

by liberateme



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oblivious!Finn, eventual Poe/finn, finn's a confused baby, finn's an idiot, i love finn but he's an idiot, lovestruck!poe, poe saves finn's ass a couple of times, some violence but not much, there is angst but it gets better, to satisfy my thirst for that otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberateme/pseuds/liberateme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was in Vartikka, the city of steel and glass and people who lived fast, that Finn was running. It wasn’t the first time that he was running for his life -- his betrayal of the First Order and early defection to the Resistance had meant he now encountered all kinds of things that endangered his life; all kinds of people and all kinds of places -- and nor would it be his last."  In which Finn is starring in a rom-com, zipping around space style. Oh, and Poe's his dashing co-star. He's just not aware of it yet. (Title credit goes to Lorde's song White Teeth Teens.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Teeth Teens

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy friends,,,  
> so this is a fic idea that kinda came into my head a couple of weeks ago? or more -- 'round about the time i was writing freed. i thought it would be interesting if i wrote about poe liking finn, only finn being oblivious, and then believing gossip going around the base that poe liked someone, teasing him about it, and EVENTUALLY finding out.  
> this didn't exactly turn out like that.  
> HOWEVER, it does feature oblivious!finn, lovestruck!poe, and does have a happy ending. it's angstier than i thought it would be, but that's the way it kind of turned out (i hope u guys will understand)  
> the first part is angstier than the second, dw bbs i've got ur back.  
> hope u enjoy!! xxxx

On the trading world of Kal’Shebbol, the sun was setting. Just a speck of fiery gold hung in the overcast sky, the sun overlooked a city of steel and glass; all space-age stuff that didn’t quite look right in the slants of sunlight that broke through the clouds above. From bodies of ocean-blue water, monstrous steel structures had risen, and now towered over the entirety of Vartikka, a city that quaked in the new age’s shadow.

Once a traditional Republic planet boasting wide, open plains and rolling hills, Kal’Shebbol had since been surrendered to the new age of technology, of sprawling cities and people who lived fast. Gone were the wet farming lands on which the early Twi’lek settlers owned, now instead a trading world to be reckoned with, formidable, and holding the crown of being the primary planet in the Trition Trade Route.

It was in Vartikka, the city of steel and glass and people who lived fast, that Finn was running. It wasn’t the first time that he was running for his life -- his betrayal of the First Order and early defection to the Resistance had meant he now encountered all kinds of things that endangered his life; all kinds of people and all kinds of places -- and nor would it be his last.

He and Poe had run into a Twi’lek trader that was seemingly friendly to begin with, inviting them with flat out palms to view his goods, dressed in fine silk robes that didn’t suit his demeanour  -- various stones and spices, all laid out on a table cloaked with cloth. Tirefin spice and Felucian glimmer-stones, sunblazes and sun-stones. All glimmering under the soft sunlight, catching Finn’s excited eyes. The Twi’lek trader appeared to take interest in Finn’s lingering eyes, grinning at him with razor-sharp teeth.

Poe was more cautious than an enthusiastic Finn, hovering close to him -- he could feel Poe’s presence, his broad-shouldered frame stood tensed behind him -- he remained tight-lipped throughout the exchange, the trader picking select gems from his display, presenting it to an awed Finn, who studied the gems. Glowing golds, purples, blues and silvers; all rich colours Finn’s eyes had never seen before.

When the Twi’lek trader finally spoke, it was in a smooth, silky tone that drew Finn in, curled around him like smoke. “I’m more than happy to sell you and your, er… _partner_ something.” Poe stirred behind him. Finn sensed he was readying himself to move, to grab Finn’s arm and pull him away. It was as if the trader knew this too -- his body bristled, the silk sheets of his robes rustling. “For a price, of course,” he added. His eyes glittered at Finn. “For you two, I’d be kind enough to strike a deal.”

The exchange was lasting too long for Poe’s comfort, and the Twi’lek trader’s bargaining tone seemed to be the last straw for the pilot. He jostled, shouldered in front of Finn in a way that was more protective than anything, but still rough. “I’m sorry, ma – _sir,_ ” Poe apologised, his voice rough and his jaw clenched. “We’re not interested.” His arm curled around Finn’s bicep, leaning toward his ear to mutter, “Come on Finn. Let’s go.”

The trader was observant, took notice of Finn’s disappointment, his shoulders sagging. As he turned to leave, the trader reached out for him -- brushed long, wiry fingers against his neck. Finn sprang away, knocked into Poe. At the first sign of trouble, Poe’s battle instincts set in. He pushed past Finn, had somehow brought out his blaster in record time, and aimed it at the Twi’lek trader. “You better back off, buddy,” Poe warned in his lip-curling, space cowboy snarl that Finn so adored. He could really pull it off. “Or I’ll blow your brains out.”

The trader hesitated at that, withdrew his hand from Finn, and regained the same silky, convincing tone. “Please, gentleman. There is no need to fight. I don’t want any trouble.” Poe considered this, and lowered his blaster. He didn’t like to pick a fight where it wasn’t needed -- only where Finn’s safety was concerned, at which Finn was a little embarrassed. He was training to be a _Jedi_ , at Master Luke’s command. He could take care of himself. But Poe wouldn’t listen in matters of his safety. He _insisted._

Finn was relieved: the conflict had been averted. That was, until the trader added in something that was more of a sneer: “At least, not from me.” Four other Twi’lek stepped forward, flanking the first Twi’lek trader. All much taller and stronger and _angrier._ Poe’s left hand found Finn’s wrist, and tightened around him. It was a silent signal: _Ready yourself._ The trader inclined his head towards one of the four men, and made a series of clicks using his teeth and tongue.

“Time to go, soldier,” Poe said low in his ear, urgent, and grabbed his arm. So they ran.

Behind his racing figure, over the loud sound of his pulsing heart and deepened breathing, Finn picked up on the sounds of clattering footsteps, and a series of enraged cries. He didn’t dare take the time to glance behind him, too afraid they’d catch him up. He sped on, his long legs catching Poe ahead of him, Poe’s legs throwing out dirt in his wake. “Do we have a plan?” He asked Poe between breaths, reminding his body, his lungs starved of air -- to keep moving, to keep running.

Poe threw him a look -- a look that made Finn flush, despite their circumstances: the _Keep Up, Stormtrooper_ Look -- and answered without taking a breath, “I might have an idea.” They weaved their way through a whole crowd of people, humans and Twi’leks alike; all who angrily protested (or shook their firsts) at the ex-Stormtrooper and pilot pushing their path through, all the while running for their lives. After they’d gracelessly knocked into a fair few vocal citizens, Poe ordered him: “Follow me.”

With the four Twi’lek hot on their heels, one almost close enough to touch the hairs on the back of Finn’s neck, Poe violently swerved into a nearby street, one in many in the sprawling maze of Vartikka’s infrastructure. The four scattered, still sprinting with purpose after what they believed, were Poe and Finn. “We don’t have long until they realise,” Poe told him, and ducked into the cover of a door, a door rusting with age that Finn recognised as the entrance to the hangar – or at least he thought so.

“What’s the plan?” Finn asked him in a hushed tone, hoping his presumption of Poe Dameron was correct -- that the quick thinking pilot had something up his sleeve, something pulled from the depths of his brain. Poe’s mouth was pulled into a grimace. Finn’s stomach overturned.

“Best plan of action is to find the fighter where we landed, and get the hell out of here.” He risked a look past the rusting doorframe, and quickly ducked back, wild eyes betraying his calm tone. “Fly to Eriadu, in the Seswenna sector. It’s, er -- about twenty parsecs away.” Finn’s chest swelled in a brief moment of joy. If there was anything more he loved about exploring the huge expanse of galaxy that was unknown to him; it was exploring the unknown galaxy with Poe by his side. “Should be quite the journey,” he added, _that_ corner of his mouth curling. “If you’re up for it?”

Finn was about to reply _Of course I am, you idiot,_ but his thought train was interrupted by a raised symphony of roars. His hands flew onto the doorframe, gripped onto it with all his might, and willed himself to not panic. Panicking had to be his worst habit, broke through his concentration and washed his mind blank of ideas. Poe spoke instead, his cheerful tone only further adding to the absurdity of their situation: “Time to go, buddy!” And grabbed his arm. They ran.

Finn finally understood what Rey meant; Poe grabbing his arm being fiercely protective in a way that embarrassed him. “Let _go_.” He scowled, and almost instantly regretted his sourness due to how taken aback Poe looked. “I can run without you grabbing my arm,” he explained, softening his tone. The initial shock melted away from Poe’s face. He released Finn’s arm without a word.

They were navigating through the hectic rush of the streets once more, this time more skilful, twisting their bodies around the humans and Twi’lek swamping the streets. “We’ve gotta find the fighter,” Poe gasped out, wildly searching for their getaway. Finn dared to glance behind him -- and, to his horror, met the eyes of an enraged Twi’lek, flicking his lekku in fury.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the lone Twi’lek, advancing towards him with purpose. “Poe,” Finn said, trying to keep his voice even. “Poe, look.” He tugged at the pilot’s orange overalls, catching onto the padding of his white flak vest, his life support box. “ _Poe._ ” It was then Poe turned, just to duck, narrowly missing the swinging arm of the Twi’lek male. Poe stumbled, regaining his balance as the Twi’lek male swung at Finn, catching his chest, the part where his rib cage was snug under.

Finn was knocked down, fresh pain blooming in his chest. He lay on the floor, groaning for a moment or two, watching Poe tackle the Twi’lek male without awareness of what was going on. Poe had his blaster out in a flash, and shot the male’s lekku. Finn saw the shot fired, the red mark left sizzling on the male’s skin. He shrieked in pain, and staggered back. Finn’s mind was just beginning to piece together the events that had happened before him, when Poe extended out a hand and helped him up.

“You need help walking?” He asked, concerned, and Finn shook his head. Another wave of pain rolled through his chest at his movement, and he paused, bit back the groan that threatened to escape him. Poe shook his head, an unreadable expression on his face: eyebrows raised, mouth tilted in a… fond smile? Was it fond? Finn wasn’t great at reading facial expressions. “Grab onto me,” Poe instructed, looping his right arm around his neck, winding his left around Finn’s waist.

He kept Finn balanced the entire journey to Poe’s fighter, tucked away snugly next to a bustling cantina. It was a T-65, an old model Poe was forced to compromise with, so the two of them were able to fly to Kal’Shebbol together. Poe seemed adamant Finn accompany him, and Finn. Well Finn liked exploring, experiencing. Being raised in the First Order, his life was a series of tests, training; all behind the sleek black walls of the First Order’s training facilities. He never got to see what was beyond those walls until they deemed him ready for the battle. And the rest was history.

Poe awkwardly boarded with Finn hanging off his arm, into the cramped space of the fighter’s cockpit, and pulled on his familiar flight helmet. Finn was forced to sit with his legs tight around Poe’s torso. Poe had just slid the overhead (and facing) window of the cockpit shut, when the same Twi’lek male from before slammed a clawing hand against the glass, startling Finn. “Ah, shit,” Poe swore, twisting about in his pilot seat, lighting up various control buttons that Finn hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. Not with Poe as his friend.

“These guys just _don’t_ quit, do they?” He sat there muttering to himself -- _Switch on the deflector shield, start up the hyperdrive_ \-- while Finn worriedly watched from his cramped seat the male slowly grin at him, exposing razor-sharp teeth. As it turned out, he had little to worry about, because Poe was a talented pilot and an even better friend. He had the thrust engines on in no time, his fingers a working blur, slowly levitating above ground as the engines started up.

The Twi’lek had no chance. He was shaken off the cockpit window, yowling and shrieking after them. Finn pressed his face to the window (before Poe pushed him off gently, told him the pressure wouldn’t be good on the fighter) and stared down at the steaming face of the Twi’lek male on the ground, quickly becoming a spot in the distance.

He felt Poe slump in his seat, relieved. “Thank kriff for that, eh Finn?” He wasn’t sure if Poe was cracking a joke but mirrored his crooked grin nonetheless, happy to be out of danger. “Next stop: Eriadu. Gotta patch up this baby before we fly back to base, or we won’t get anywhere. The hyperdrive’s under serious strain.” Finn nodded during his explanation, hoping his face didn’t betray his utter confusion.

A pilot, he would never be. There was too much to remember, and he was still in awe of how Poe remembered it _all._

Poe spoke once more, slicing through the silence that had fallen between the two of them: “You can rest, buddy. I’ve got you.” Finn wanted to do _something_ to express his gratitude, maybe pat Poe on the shoulder -- after all, his shoulder was right there -- but his touch tended to be clumsy, and Finn felt awkward, in the stifling cramped space. He sat in guilty silence, but couldn’t avoid the pull of sleep for too long.

He fell asleep with a view of the galaxy’s stars and moons outside and Poe sat in front of him, murmuring to the starship like it was his baby, pressing odd buttons here and there. Finn thought even the galaxy couldn’t compare to the view he had in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Finn was woken up by someone shaking him rather roughly. He cracked one eye open; his vision came flooding in, in colour. A roguish-looking man was stood over him: tanned, weathered skin; a mop of dark hair curling on his head; and soft, kind eyes that didn’t suit the harsh line of his scruffy jaw, nor the angular structure of his face. Finn’s eyes flew open. “Poe, what are you doing?” He asked in a voice rough from sleep, shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight of outside. “ _Poe._ ” He groaned, shifting in his seat.

His spine was all bent and twisted from his awkward sleeping position; his joints ached from a lack of use; and Poe wouldn’t stop smiling at him with that _damn_ smile. “What?” He sat up straight in his seat, and regretted it at the weak pang of pain his chest sent him. He winced. “Poe, _what_? You’re being all quiet and doing that thing where I can’t read your face.” Finn sulked.

Poe shook his head, and the smile on his face faded. Finn didn’t like that. “We’re here.” He jabbed a thumb behind him, to where the source of the sunlight was peeking out of. “Eriadu. Need a hand up?” Finn put away his pride and nodded, accepted Poe’s outstretched hand once again. Poe hauled him up with no difficulty, leaving Finn to wonder if him skipping his training sessions was impacting his body mass, melting away his muscle.

He stood up, allowing him a proper view of where Poe had skilfully piloted them to: a city that reminded Finn of Vartikka, but not quite. There was a certain softness to the city; the sky whitewashed with pastel pinks and oranges; towering architecture illuminated by strong slants of sunlight, from the woven ball of gold that hung in the sky. Not the same cruel, block colours that Vartikka had. “Wow.” Finn marvelled, his eyes darting around, greedy to absorb all that Eriadu’s city was presenting to him.

He was helped down from the T-65 by an impatient Poe, who wasn’t willing to give him the time of day to appreciate Eriadu’s life. “Come on, buddy,” he said, one hand clamped around Finn’s waist tightly, cautious Finn would slip. (Finn couldn’t blame him. He was prone to clumsiness.) “We’ve got things to do! People to see! Well. I mean,” he laughed, nervous. “Not sure if we want to see too many people after your run in with that guy the other day. Don’t know what his problem was.”

“You did pull out a blaster at him,” Finn pointed out, his feet landing on the ground with a _thud._ “From what I know, not many species are a big fan of the gun thing.”

“Yeah, well. He was gonna hurt you. And I – “

“ – Can’t let that happen, _I know._ ” Finn interrupted, a little exasperated. Poe was supposed to be his _friend,_ not his mindful father who’d worry every time he fell from his speeder and cut his knee. But he didn’t want to upset Poe, he liked seeing him happy, so he bit back any further remarks. “You were saying. Things to do?” He prompted, hoping he could distract Poe. He’d forgotten.

Poe seemed to shake himself out of a trance he’d slipped into. “Er, yeah. Lots of things buddy.” He slapped Finn on the shoulder, in what Finn read as a friendly gesture. “We’re here for ship components!” Finn gave him a dry look. (Ships were Poe’s thing. Not his. His thing he hadn’t quite worked out yet. But held the hope that he would find _something_ , something he’d strive towards, work at. Just something.) “I’m sorry man,” Poe apologised, in between steadying a smile that was threatening on his lips. “But that hyperdrive needs some serious work. Or – “

“ – We’re not going anywhere,” Finn finished. “I know.” Poe rocked back on his heels, and gave him a considering look that made Finn’s cheeks flush.

“You really need to stop doing that,” Poe decided, and Finn resisted his automatic response to smile. “You’re getting too good at it.” He shrugged, mouth twisted in a way that said _Maybe I will, maybe I won’t._ Poe exhaled, shoulders sagging. But didn’t push it.

“So. Ship parts, right?”

Poe nodded grimly, serious all of a sudden. Finn supposed it was his attachment to all ships he flew -- didn’t want to see them broken, just as he wouldn’t want to see his friends hurt. He was exasperated by Poe sometimes. _Ships and people,_ honestly. “Hyperdrive’s bust and the shield generator might need looking at, too,” Poe spoke with grave seriousness.

Finn risked a smile, and was glad when Poe returned it. “That meant absolutely nothing to me, man,” he confessed. “Just so you know.” Poe slung an arm around him, radiating warmth pressed up against him, and grinned, in his devilish way. And like that, Finn was enraptured by him all over again.

Wandering through Eriadu -- or _Phelar,_ as Poe corrected him -- Finn was awestruck by almost everything his eyes caught onto; captivated by the planet they’d landed on. Humans and rodians swarmed the streets of Phelar, tiny beings in comparison to another city of steel and glass that had sprung up from the dirt of the earth, now stretching for the outreaches of the sky. Bustle was on the ground _and_ in the sky, airspeeders flitting above Finn’s head as they walked.

He’d _seen_ ships before, he’d been flown in them before -- Finn was aware that his surprise and marvel in the airspeeders was ridiculous, but his eyes really hooked onto the streamlined vehicles, and the nonchalance of the person piloting them, sat with utter disinterest. His fingers itched to touch, to test if the paint emblazoned on the sides of the airspeeders was as sleek as they looked.

Poe nudged him, and Finn felt his cheeks heat. He’d been staring. “Nifty little things, aren’t they?” Poe said with admiration in his voice, low in Finn’s ears. He felt relief that Poe didn’t mention his staring, nor his slack jaw (he couldn’t help it sometimes) -- it helped to have a pilot for a friend, one who understood the mechanics of ships and _truly_ admired them. “It’d be handy to have them in base,” Poe added, thoughtful.

Finn wasn’t sure if he liked the risks that having airspeeders on base, posed. He knew they possessed excellent pilots, but -- well, Finn was a worrier. He worried about what _could_ happen: Poe crashing headfirst, Jessika being flung from her seat only to break every bone in her body. He took hold of Poe’s arm and tugged him along, before the pilot could consider snagging a couple of airspeeders for himself. Poe laughed and relented, raising his hands in defeat.

“Ship parts, I remember. It’s okay buddy.”

Poe led him through the bustle of the body of the centre, through its veins to rows of neat market stalls that reminded Finn startingly of Vartikka. He hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat, his back was still sore from where the Twi’lek attacked him. There was something about this market, an aura of calm not seen in Vartikka. An eerily high level of calm Finn hadn’t seen on _any_ other planet, he concluded. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. His experiences with Poe had taught him to be wary.

Immersed in hushed, quiet conversation; Poe made a beeline for a market stall that, from a distance, seemed to be selling bits and pieces of weaponry, all scattered over purple cloth, ashen greys and pristine blacks glinting in the shafts of light. Finn followed him obediently, like a dog tagging after its master. He didn’t stride as confidently as Poe, nor did he pull off a blaster strapped to a holster around his hips. Poe _was_ one of the lucky ones, after all.

Poe stopped short in front of the weaponry stall, blaster slung low on his hips. He oozed confident Resistance pilot, and Finn was perfectly okay with that. He was used to Poe talking the more subtle approach, so was a little taken aback when Poe called out, thumbs tucked into his holster: “Is Mothallah Wiomesv here?” A kind of awed hush fell over the market; all eyes swivelled to stare at Poe. Finn was nervous at this newfound attention, and was about to suggest Poe they look elsewhere -- but an unusually short Rodian stepped forward, and embraced Poe.

“Poe, my friend. It is good to see you,” he greeted with warmth Finn wasn’t used to. He was wearing typical Rodian clothing: beige, dusty clothing that fit him snugly; khaki trousers that held imprints Finn had never seen before; a rucksack of sorts strapped to his back, one knapsack strapped across his front; and laced boots that his trousers were tucked into. He was dressed like a smuggler, but was talking to Poe avidly, gesturing with his hands.

Finn thought he was going to remain forgotten (Poe was more occupied with _Moth_ -whatever, after all) but Poe turned his smile-creased face to Finn, and he suddenly regretted wanting Poe’s attention on him; Moth’s large, unblinking eyes on him were creeping him out, in all honesty. “Mothallah, this is my great buddy, Finn. He’s with the, uh, you know. _Crew._ ” Finn was alerted by Poe’s wavering smile. Poe didn’t beat around the bush -- he was a _Resistance pilot,_ for kriff’s sake. Something was up.

Finn shook Mothallah’s scaled, cracked hands cautiously. “It’s good to meet you.” Mothallah’s short bark of laughter startled him. He dropped his hand quickly.

“You were right, Poe,” he said after he was done with his short burst of amusement, “He _is_ polite.” Finn’s brow furrowed, and he bit back his curiosity. Here wasn’t the place to barrage Poe with questions -- that could come later. When they were in the T-65, preferably. There Poe couldn’t distract Finn with a charming smile, or a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“We haven’t got much time, Mothallah,” Finn heard Poe tell the Rodian urgently. “We’re under a bit of… time pressure.” The Rodian nodded in understanding, and Finn felt even more lost than before. He was frustrated he couldn’t read interaction well enough. Rey would help when she could, but Rey often didn’t assist him with these missions he and Poe were sent off on by General Organa herself. _Orders are orders,_ she’d told Finn with patience he envied. Finn was more aware of orders than the three of them put together: he was aware of the strict, gruelling routines the First Order had reduced him to, and he understood that they had no choice.

But in times like these, Finn wished he had Rey by him as a translator. _She’d_ know what Poe and Mothallah were talking about, would translate it all of it to him in her concise way.

“Listen, buddy, Mothallah and I are just going to go in his tent and talk a bit. About… ship parts, he’s got some goods I’m interested in. Fusial thrust engines and that,” he finished in a hurried rush. “You stay here, watch out for trouble.” Before Finn could wonder if the words _Fusial thrust engines_ had been mentioned before, Poe was talking Mothallah by the arm, being guided to the Rodian’s tent, and ducking into the pitched up tent. Finn exhaled. Wonderful. Here he was, on a planet he’d never seen before, nor explored (that he’d _love_ to, if he could) -- and he was left to stand around while Poe did all the work. _All the fun work,_ his brain added bitterly.

He crossed his arms, the leather of Poe’s jacket crinkling. He guessed he could still look around; Poe hadn’t specified _where_ he should stay put. The market was a small collective of stalls, all selling odds and ends: clunky, metal parts of starships extracted from Imperial ships that Finn knew Rey would have come across; one stall that interested him particularly, selling textiles, orange trevella cloth and red velvet that he was tempted to run his fingers across. He resisted, knowing that too much interest attracted the traders’, and history had shown that that never went well.

He stopped by a stall selling spices that he recognised from the Twi’lek trader’s stall on Kal’Shebbol. There were small scoops of glittering, crushed powder labelled **Sansanna spice**. Another, labelled **Tirefin spice** , he recognised. Held in a small, glass jar, the musky colours of the spice taunted him, like they _knew._ Finn shook his head free of his paranoid thoughts. He was going insane. He summoned the courage to ask the Rodian trader (not possessing Mothallah’s friendly demeanour, and was rather menacing): “Is this really Tirefin spice?” He studied the jar.

“What else would it be?” The Rodian snapped, baring his toothless mouth. Alright. Not so menacing, Finn decided. “ _Ittu,_ ” he growled, in undecipherable Rodese. Finn guessed by his snarl, it wasn’t good. But he was feeling a little put off by Poe’s order to stay put, so he felt comforted by the fact that if anything did happen, he was not prepared to be a gentleman about it.

“I thought it was valuable,” he said, offhand, and raised his eyes to see the Rodian’s expression: twisted, with his huge eyes flared up with anger Finn had never seen before in a Rodian. “And sold on few planets,” he added. He knew little about Tirefin spice, and was only attempting to wind up the Rodian market seller out of his own irritation.

It seemed that Finn had some more work to do, as the seller replied with unnerving calmness: “It is. But we are, er,” he smiled tightly at the Stormtrooper, “Lucky enough to have it in our supply. Very expensive.” Finn leant in, and squinted at the jar in thought.

“You sure you didn’t steal it?” He knew it was a dangerous question, and was toying with a highly-strung Rodian seller. But he couldn’t care less, as Poe had cast him to the sidelines, and was most likely tucked away in a tent, safe and snug, talking business, while Finn was standing about, useless. (He thought he was Poe’s right hand man, there to help him when things got sticky. He thought wrong.)

The trader explored. “Why, you –“ He broke into rapid Rodese, signalling two Rodians lingering near him. He uttered something to them quickly, and their faces grew angry, twisted like the first. Finn was feeling déjà vu from the first incident in Vartikka, but this time he was ready: he tensed, stood his ground, and reached to where his blaster was hidden, curling his hand around the hilt. The two stalked towards him, clutching Rodian razor-sticks. Finn was feeling more afraid now. He didn’t know how this would go down -- his blaster against their two razor-sticks.

Sure, his blaster was more efficient and precise, but razor-sticks possessed sharp blades that could cause serious damage, slice deep into human flesh. He’d heard that victims of the razor-sticks were left to bleed to death by the razor-sticks, from severe wounds. He shuddered, and drew out his blaster. He tried to remind himself how Poe would act in a life threatening situation, with only his blaster as a weapon. _Not being petty and not get into this situation in the first place,_ his mind reminded him. He didn’t really have a way out now. He didn’t want to grovel, and the Rodians wouldn’t listen.

The taller of the two struck first, leapt forwards swiftly and sliced. He sliced through air -- as it happened Finn’s quick reflexes acted first, and he jumped backwards gracefully. His legs shook, though, and he had little time to recover before the second struck, and managed to snag onto Poe’s jacket, tearing the material cloaking his shoulder. Finn couldn’t even regret that he’d let Poe’s jacket rip; had to aim and fire a shot at the taller, landing onto his torso. The Rodian shrieked, his spindly fingers spread over where the red mark sizzled, and he fell.

Onto the ground with a loud noise that even Poe, from his tent, could not mistake. The pilot came sprinting out, eyes wild with alarm. “Finn?” He shouted, frantically searching over the mass of Rodians and few brave humans that had gathered around Finn in their unsympathetic interest. “Finn!”

“Over here!” Finn called back, readying himself for another shot. The Rodian hesitated, his comrade laid motionless on the ground. The mark had burnt through the cloth of his shirt, and his hand was still clutching onto his torso. He and the Rodian were both still, staring at one another. The Rodian made his decision, and fled. Away from the scene of the crime that Finn was now stood in front of. His anger had long dissipated, and he now had to face Poe, who stopped short at the sight.

“Oh, Finn,” Poe said weakly, and Finn’s stomach tightened. He’d acted foolishly in his fit of anger, and it had paid him. He was a murderer, he realised miserably. He’d murdered a Rodian his first time on Eriadu, and it was costly. His heart didn’t sink at the cold, judgemental eyes of the crowd, regarding a body of their own with little emotion. It sank at Poe’s, “What have you done, buddy?”

 

* * *

 

Finn and Poe boarded the T-65 in silence. Finn was too miserable to note that Poe had nothing on his person, nothing of the kind that’d fix a T-65 X-wing Starfighter. He didn’t regard Poe’s comment either, from earlier, that they weren’t going anywhere without the hyperdrive being tended to. After Finn’s display of uncharacteristic violence in the market, they’d left hurriedly and without speaking another word to anyone, human or Rodian or otherwise.

It wasn’t until they were in full flight, distancing themselves from the planet of Eriadu in what could only be embarrassment, with the coordinations of the Resistance base entered in, that Poe finally spoke. Finn had been wallowing in the back in silence, and so had been startled by Poe’s voice breaking the silence: “What happened there, buddy?”

Finn sat silently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence.

And -- just when Finn had thought Poe had accepted defeat, and was relieved to avoid Poe for the next week or so and pretend he wasn’t an awful person -- Poe persisted. “Why did you do it?”

“I was angry.”

“Why were you angry?”

Finn bit his lip. He didn’t want to ignore Poe, but he didn’t want Poe to uncover the true reason behind his killing of the Rodian -- which, in his silent consideration, he’d deemed pathetic. Unnecessary, and pathetic. He’d acted like a petulant child. He was unable to ignore Poe forever. “I was angry because you told me to stand and wait.”

Poe sounded bewildered when he said, “So you didn’t want to sit and wait?”

“No.”

“Buddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise, I – I thought it would be best if you waited. It was sticky business.”

Finn’s mood soured. So Poe didn’t think he was capable of handling the tough stuff. He felt severely undermined here. “I’m not allowed to handle business?”

“Finn, _no_.” Poe was aghast. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought leaving you was the best thing to do” -- Poe laughed, dry and sarcastic -- “And I was completely wrong. I screwed it up entirely.” Finn saw Poe’s arm lift, and guessed he was scrubbing a hand over his face. Something he did when he was frustrated. “I can’t keep you safe, I can’t do anything right. I – “

Finn interrupted, “You don’t have to keep me safe.” He didn’t mean to sound brash, but he was frustrated. He was a decade younger than Poe, sure, but he didn’t need babysitting. There’d be no use in going on missions with Poe if he couldn’t participate. “I can look after myself.”

Poe’s voice sounded strangled, and strange, when he said: “I think the events of today have shown you can’t.” Finn slumped in his seat, devastated. He’d never heard Poe sound so… so _authoritative,_ before. He sounded more like the General than Poe Dameron, dashing pilot. “And if I can’t protect you, I don’t think you should come on any missions anymore.”

“Poe – “

Poe cut in, with crushing swiftness. “I’m going to tell the General to defect you from any future missions. You’ll stay at base in the future.”

Finn couldn’t express how awful he felt, with his beating heart folding in on itself, bit by bit. His rich-red blood ran cold. His heart stopped. And he didn’t speak to Poe for the rest of their journey home. There was little point, he realised. That was that.

And it felt fucking _terrible._   

**Author's Note:**

> stay tuned for part two!!  
> (or not, it's a free country, do what u want to do)


End file.
